Chapter Text
(Unknown location between Oregon and Nevada, days ago…)
“Victor! Victor!!”
Victor Drath was shaken up by the yelling of his henchman, Dutch, behind the door. Grumbling, he opened the door with a snarl. “Goddammit, Dutch! Can’t you see that I'll be having a meeting with Dr. Arkeville a few days from now?!”
“It’s the Synthoid!” Dutch reported, panting. “He escaped!”
“What?!”
Victor dressed up quickly and headed for the underground secret lab, finding the capsule broken from the outside. He realized that someone from their ranks had helped the prisoner out.
Meanwhile, the woman and another henchman, both part of Drath’s group in MECH who were sick of this job, were already crossing into the Nevada border using a MECH jeep with the prisoner they helped escape. The prisoner was unconscious on the passenger seat, unaware of the events that transpired. As more of MECH’s hunters came speeding toward the renegade pair, the duo decided to retaliate by using the forested path.
Unfortunately, they ended up in a river. Fortunately enough, they had a boat and used it.
Transferring the Synthoid into the boat, they began to row along the current. Their pursuers were still behind them, but eventually their speed was outrunning them. The duo were good with the rapids and lost their pursuers until they finally got through.
Now they were worrying about finding another escape vehicle.
They set the unconscious Synthoid in a well-hid spot and they began to search for a car or something until they spotted a black Freighter truck that transformed before them.
Oh, shit, it was Sylas!
“Where is Prime?” he demanded.
The pair exchanged glances, realizing that their luck ran out. But their conscience could not bear to witness Optimus’ death. They stood still and undeterred, their hands holding on to their only family.
“Oh, right. You are both mutes. My apologies. However, emotions toward the Synthoid is no excuse!” Sylas mocked-apologized with Optimus’s voice. He then blasted the siblings before he commanded the MECH pursuers to clean up the mess. “Find him before he escapes to another town! Make sure that you retrieve him alive!”
The MECH operatives began to scour the area, some entering the forest and finding the woman’s jacket on the ground. There was some fresh blood on it that didn’t belong to her.
“The Synthoid is awake! Follow the trail of blood!”
They started to scour the forest until they were a little too far enough when one by one the soldiers were attacked by a naked man. They began to shoot everywhere, hoping to land a hit and more hopefully somewhere not vital.
A sound of pain caused them to follow it, and they heard the footsteps of someone limping. Their chase quickened and found the Synthoid they were looking for. But before they could catch him, he jumped off the cliff and was caught by the river below, ending their pursuit with the idea that he died from the fall.
But he didn’t. Something was calling him from his near-unconsciousness. It was telling him to find it. The Synthoid rose from the surface of the river with a gasp and pulled himself toward the shore, continuing his journey until he was in a rural residential area where the voice was calling louder in his mind.
“Find me…”
He reached out to a house, broke its window, and climbed in, unable to avoid the sharp glass shards that cut along his skin. He was too fatigued from the escape, his gunshot wound not helping matters, and he stumbled, too weak and too (hungry) to move.
Flashes of visions zapped into his mind of beings made of metal and wires, of a dying metal planet, of cybernetic life in his (metal) hands that he felt…connected to.
“Find me…” called the voice again, and he truly wanted to! But the voice felt so near and so far, and he could no longer go on even if he desired to, obliged to…
His vision blurred into darkness before he heard voices behind him, and in his moments toward unconsciousness, he uttered the words that now felt too foreign to him…
-o-
(The Ark, present day…)
“I GOT TO GET PRIME’S FRAME BACK!!”
The medbay was struck with surprise when Hot Rod went online and shouted, and some of them scrambled out to call their CMO. The speedster was to sit up to leave the medical berth when the magnetizer turned on and he was forced back on it.
Ratchet, now functional with his missing faceplates fixed back, approached the fiery mech with a glare. “Thinking of leaving the berth so soon, Hot Rod?” he questioned gruffly as he checked the young Bot’s vitals. “They said you caught on fire during the volcano eruption.”
“...What…?” he uttered in confusion. Ratchet simply continued working on the apparatus until he was done. “Do I have to repeat myself, Hot Rod?”
Hot Rod had no clue about what transpired, or how it affected everyone in the Ark. “...When…?”
And the murmurs began behind him. When he looked around, they became avoidant. “Ratchet, what happened?!”
“Here, drink this first.” Ratchet handed him a mug of energon, which the young mech drank before spitting it out. The grumpy medic gave him a dagger-sharp glare. “Dammit. Now I have to make a new one!” He snatched the mug from Hot Rod and made another medical-grade energon. “You need to drink it slowly! It’s made to make you relax.”
Hot Rod coughed. “...What for?” He coughed again.
Ratchet gave him a new mug of medical-grade energon again and forced Hot Rod to drink it with a frown. The speedster flinched before he drank it slowly, grimacing at the terrible taste that lasted after he emptied it.
The medic grabbed the mug and inspected it. “Good! You emptied it. You’ll get a rust stick later.”
“What’s going on, Ratch? What happened?”
“First, don’t call me Ratch. Second, I have a question for you: What’s the last thing you remembered?”
Hot Rod blinked. “Fighting Sylas…” Then it hit him. The grin that Sylas made using Optimus’ faceplates. The next thing that happened, he couldn’t remember until he recalled the words that shook him up from the rage that piloted him.
“...YOU’RE KILLING YOUR BROTHER!!”
He froze. “...Bee…!” He suddenly struggled to get off the magnetized berth, and after a few attempts, he was slowly feeling his systems slow. “Ratchet, where’s Bumblebee…?!”
The CMO’s frown softened. “...He’s recovering.”
Hot Rod would have been relieved that his brother was okay, but somewhere deep inside his spark and processor, it still felt off. If Bee was okay, Ratchet would still have sounded gruff. The stares of the Autobots in the medbay weren't helping matters for him either.
“Ratchet, please tell me…”
The medic sighed heavily. “Two kliks, and I’ll release the magnetizers, alright?”
“...Alright.”
Two kliks felt too long for him, though. The whispers in the room almost felt too loud for his audio receptors not to ignore. Those whispers were not kind, more like avoiding and hiding from him, and it worried the young Bot.
“Your two kliks are up.” Ratchet finally turned the magnetizers off and released Hot Rod. He gave him some rust sticks, but it was specially made by the medic himself. Not that it mattered to Hot Rod right now.
He escorted Hot Rod to a private room where Bumblebee was resting. The yellow Bot was surrounded by Hound, Cliffjumper, and the three humans standing beside the berth using a mechanical platform to reach the patient. The medic didn’t allow Hot Rod to enter the room itself, instead took him to a smaller one that was separated by a transparent window.
Hot Rod’s spark whirred with anxiety as Ratchet had him close to the window. Once Hound was summoned out of the room, the speedster finally got a view of the comatosed Bumblebee. Ratchet wasn’t looking, but he could sense the tension in the devastated Hot Rod.
Bumblebee’s lower jaw was covered with a thick metal plating that barely hid the sign of heat damage on that area of the Beetle’s faceplates. Other metal discolorations were also found along the cheeks. The yellow armor platings were distorted by extreme heat, some worse than others. Several wirings were connected to the nearby apparatuses, monitors beeping at what the medic explained as stabilizing. Ratchet told him that his brother was going to get through and will be online soon. Those words, however, weren't making Hot Rod any better after seeing the youngest of the twins in such a state. Hot Rod wanted to speak, say anything, but his words were trapped inside, his mind too convoluted to sum up the things he wanted to express.
“Hot Rod,” Ratchet spoke to him. “If you want to talk to him, do it with caution. We don’t know if Bumblebee’s traumatized from his injuries.”
His expression dropped deeper.
-o-
(Witwicky Residence, Jasper, Nevada, a few hours before sunrise…)
Something made Rung go online from his recharge, and he transformed into his robot mode from his seemingly useless alt mode. He checked the windows, making guesses where that magnetic feeling was heading, until he was facing the dining room door. Oh, dear.
The more it felt close, the stronger that sense of inexplicable longing magnetized him. It was like a beacon of light in the void. The orange mech was entranced to approach this enigma…
…Except, it was he who was calling out to the enigma. The feeling was familiar, as if he knew this one. But the obstacle that was the walls of this human home was keeping the enigma blind in his search. Rung felt a little devastated when the enigma’s presence finally faded…to a stop.
The presence was still there, but a little far despite being so near.
Rung wanted to help that enigma. He knew he had to leave the place and reach for the mystery that got lost upon approach, and so he headed for the garage door regardless of his own safety. He knew that he must, regardless of the reason!
Unfortunately, as he reached for this tiny switch, the garage door opened and he looked around with a dumbfounded look. There stood the Witwicky woman, whose sons were nowhere in sight, and she locked eyes with his optics as the silence deepened between them. And he made the innocent audacity to speak to her.
“I mean no harm,” he said in Cybertronian before his thoughts retracted from his own mistake.
(Judy Witwicky fainted once more.)
-o-
(Darby Residence…)
The boys helped the unconscious man on the bed and covered him with a blanket once they treated his injuries. They hoped they did well, because the bullet wound was something of a challenge. None of them were surgeons, prompting Jack to wonder if they should call an ambulance.
“You think that would help?” Jimmy asked him.
“He has a bullet wound! Mom would freak out seeing the mess!”
“Maybe the Autobots know how to operate a human?” Spike shrugged along with his own question.
“I don’t think that would work. They only repair their own kind. Doing surgery on a human? I doubt it.”
The Elder Witwicky son groaned. “The only person who can operate on him would be Mom. The problem is, she’s unconscious after seeing Bumblebee.” (Rung somehow felt the sense of being forgotten again.)
“She what?”
A knock on the door caught their attention and they exchanged glances before scrambling around to clean up the mess. Spike was tasked to check who the visitor was, and when he looked at the lens of the peephole, there stood Rung.
They (didn’t know) the Autobot in front of the door, but he was an Autobot, so they opened the door.
Mojo dashed into the living room and went jumping and whimpering at Spike, who picked him up and tried to calm down the dog.
Jimmy asked the Autobot who he was. He whispered his answer. “Um, hello. My designation is Rung.” He pointed at the brothers behind Jack. “I just came to tell you that the woman they call Mom has collapsed at the doorway to the garage.”
“What?!”
“Oh, shit, Mom!”
“Huh? What happened to Mrs. Witwicky?” Jack inquired worriedly.
“She saw Bee in his robot mode and she fainted.”
“...Uh-oh.”
As Jimmy returned home with Rung, Spike and Jack wondered what to do now. The other Witwicky wanted to follow his brother, but he remembered the man in June’s bedroom. “Jack, do you have an extra set of clothes for the man back inside?”
The Darby teen contemplated. “We have Dad’s leftover clothes she was planning to dispose of. I think they’d fit his size.”
“Okay, I think we need to suit him up.”
They returned to the bedroom and carefully had the man wear the clothes. It was a difficult task given that the unconscious stranger was heavily yet leanly built. Spike cringed as they covered the bullet wound with the blue shirt. Once done, they took him to the Witwicky House, where Jimmy met them with a bewildered glare. “Spike, Jack, what are you both doing?!”
“Sorry, Jimmy, but I think he’s better in our house than Mrs. Darby’s,” grunted this younger brother. “We’d be doing some cleaning in their house and, uh, try to find some replacement window pane, I guess?”
“At this time of the night?” he dismissed. “You know what, we don’t have many options at borrowed time. Let’s see…Get the man on the couch and go back to Jack’s to board the broken window. We’ll tell Mrs. Darby that some huge dog or cat suddenly forced its way into their house. How’s that?” The other two teens looked at each other and decided to go with that. Jimmy nodded. “Alright, let’s make this quick!”
-o-
(Infirmary, The Ark, Mt. St. Hilary, Oregon…)
Cliffjumper stepped out of Bee’s room distressed over his twin’s situation. After seeing his brother’s melted faceplates and armor, he demanded who did it to his Beetle twin. Hound and Ironhide had to restrain him and put into a detention room until he was calm, which would take a very long time had Mary not managed to coax him.
Hearing that Hot Rod went berserk and burned Bumblebee, Cliff wanted to confront and curse the speedster for hurting their brother. This gave him a scolding from his female human and her husband’s best friend. They told him to give Hot Rod the chance to explain his side, which pretty went moot when Ratchet explained that the fiery mech lost memories of the incident and was stupefied when he found Bee in stasis lock.
While Cliffjumper said nothing, they understood that he wasn’t ready to forgive Hot Rod for it.
Ironhide met them and he took a moment before explaining about Wheeljack’s ground bridge now operational from the Ark. “A’right, humans, Ah got news for ya. Wheeljack has managed t’ make th’ ground bridge work from th’ Ark’s side. Ya know what that means? Ya can finally go home. Yer kids must be worried for y’all. The incident made y’all late for yer recharge too.”
Sparky and Davey realized now that they’re going to be late for work, and upon checking the time, it was 2:14 AM. “WE’RE GONNA BE LATE!” the trio of humans exclaimed.
“Wait! You’re not going to the oil refinery for work, Mary!” Davey told her.
“What do you mean, Davey?! I’m in charge of your breakfast today like I’ve always been! I woke up at 4 AM, and now I have LESS THAN 2 HOURS OF SLEEP!! I CAN’T PREPARE YOUR MORNING BREAKFAST WITH HALF OF MY BRAIN WORKING!” she exasperated, shaking her husband’s shoulders.
“And we’ll lose a few more minutes if we delay some more, Mary!” Sparky informed her. “Alright, beam us up, Ironhide!”
Ironhide was perplexed by the Earthian statement, but he helped them to the ground bridge. Hound and Cliffjumper stayed behind, deciding to follow suit to Jasper, Nevada later once Bumblebee would go online, or perhaps earlier as their humans needed their cars…
Oh, right. Bee wasn’t online yet…
“Hey.” The two Bots jumped when Bluestreak sneaked in just to talk. “Hey, did your human just say the quote from the show ‘Star Trip’?”
The jeep and the Porsche exchanged glances. “‘Star Trip’?”
“You know, the show about organics travelling in space?” Blue seemed to be smiling in anticipation. Given that this poor mech was chatty due to his trauma back in Praxus, they wished they could sympathize with him properly, but the only more respectful way was to keep him talking about nonsense as they nod until he would stop and leave.
If only Smokescreen was here…
“Oh! I remember now! Wheeljack wants to see you both right now. Sorry. I must have taken too much of your time.”
Hound and Cliffjumper blinked and followed him, just in time for Hot Rod to find out that they left Bee’s room. The speedster approached the door and opened it to see the comatosed yellow Volkswagen Beetle on his berth. Needless to say, Hot Rod’s spark sank more.
“Bee,” he whispered with a tinge of heavy guilt. He walked closer to Bumblebee’s side, his optics gazing at the signs of distorted chrome and metal. Seeing the cover that encompassed the scout’s entire jaw, Hot Rod cringed at the idea that it was ruined beyond repair. What would his sire say about this? About hurting his own brother to near-death? He feared this.
“...Bumblebee,” he uttered sorrily. “Forgive me.”
To his surprise, Bee broke from his stasis. His innocent blue optics flickered on, faint at first before going full, visuals stabilizing by the klik. Hot Rod gasped with a quiet gratitude that his brother was finally online, but he gasped again in horror when the scout flinched upon seeing him.
It wasn’t about the look of perturbation in Bumblebee’s faceplates that made Hot Rod shudder with horror, but the lack of glyphs that should have emanated from Bee’s vocalizer.
Oh, Primus, no…! He also broke Bumblebee’s vocalizer!!
“EEeeeEEEEeeeeEeEEE?!” a long puzzled and glitched beep unleashed from Bumblebee before another, anxious one followed. “EEeeEEEeeee!”
“No, no, NO! What have I done?! I didn’t mean to do that!!” Hot Rod unleashed a horrified EM Field. “I never wanted to hurt you! I got to fix this! I’m gonna fix this, I promise!!”
“EEEeeeeEEEE!!”
“Bee, no! I am not going to hurt you this time! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to get you hurt!” he sobbed before he reached out to him again. Bumblebee flinching was enough for him to think that he feared him so much. “Bee…!”
Hot Rod stepped back and realized that he had done way too much than burn his younger brother’s frame. The speedster gazed into his servos, and then to his arm blasters.
To these cursed arm exhausts that destroyed Bumblebee in frame, mind, and spark.
The door opened, startling Hot Rod before recognizing that it was Hound. “Hot Rod?” he mentioned. “What are you doing here?!”
“EEEEeeeEEE?” Bumblebee chirped.
Switching between the two Autobots, Hot Rod expressed distress and ran out of the room, ignoring Bee’s servos reaching for him. The fiery mech pushed away the other Bots in the way, vents heavily passing in and out of his system until he bumped into Cliffjumper.
Upon seeing him, Cliff’s faceplates switched from puzzled to shock to angry and began wrestling the speedster in order to punch him once the latter was on the floor. All Hot Rod could do was shield himself and not fight back. He could feel the rage in every strike.
“You almost killed Bee!!” Cliffjumper exclaimed. “You’re a shame to the Autobots!! You’re a shame to Prime, to our Sire!! You…YOU MONSTER!!”
“Cliffjumper, enough!!” Ironhide arrived to pull off the furious red mech off the non-retaliating speedster. Wheeljack shot Cliff with a force field gun, preventing Bumblebee’s red twin from trying to murder Hot Rod with a flurry of punches and swears, slipping himself each time he tried to attack. “Hot Rod,” said the red pickup with a stern look. “Ya’re comin’ with us.”
Hot Rod sulked and stood before following the commander and the scientist to the briefing room.
-o-
(Briefing Room, The Ark, Mt. St. Hilary, Oregon…)
Hot Rod was given a seat as the two adult bots stood in front of him. The suspense was tense, and the youngling was feeling uncomfortable with each passing nanoklik. Soon, Bulkhead arrived, emotionless, before joining the commander by standing at Ironhide’s right side, and from the atmosphere and the EM Field, Hot Rod felt like he was on trial.
“Hot Rod,” said Ironhide to him with a reluctant leer. “After some deliberation between th’ council, we’re t’ give ya a fair trial. But before anythin’ each one o’ us have somethin’ t’ explain t’ ya. That is, if ya want t’ hear ‘em.”
He said nothing. Ironhide sighed heavily. “Ya see, Hot Rod, we appreciate th’ effort ya did t’ liven th’ sparks o’ ev’ry Autobot. However, recent events had been considered, an’ we’re afraid that it affected some Bots after that said altercation.”
Hot Rod raised his servo.
“Go ahead, soldier.”
His faceplates made a flinch as he recalled the time he caused stasis to Bumblebee after the fuselage incident. “Am I…gonna lose my Autobrand…?”
There was a silent pause among the trio before Wheeljack shook his helm. “No, you’re not out of the Autobots. That’s the good news.” He later contemplated with pity. “The thing is…You went…out of control. You were trying to kill Sylas, and you were about to hurt me and Hound for intervening. Look, we understand how close you are to Prime, and seeing that Sylas stole his frame, but…”
“I’ll say it,” Bulkhead interjected and looked at Hot Rod sternly. “You endangered the lives of the Autobots and the humans in the Ark during the volcanic explosion, Hot Rod, and that’s because you decided to let your rage get to you. You lost control of your flames, you deformed Prime’s frame, and you almost…you almost made Bumblebee casualty…”
The fiery speedster hung his helm in guilt. “I didn’t mean to…”
“We git it, Hot Rod. Sylas used a tactic to enrage you, an’ that’s th’ problem,” explained the pickup. “By setting yourself aflame t’ deal with one highly experienced MECH soldier, ya endangered th’ entire ship, its crew, an’ its…allies, for th’ lack o’ better term. For that, we need t’ take this matter seriously.” He paused. “Hot Rod, ya’re banned from enterin’ the Ark from here on out. It’s for th’ sake o’ the ship an’ its crew. We’re sorry, kid.”
Hot Rod froze. “So…I can’t set pede on the Ark forever…?”
“Until further notice, Hot Rod. It’s for th’ best, for th’ safety o’ ev’ryone. D’ya understand?”
He hung his helm, ashamed of his inability that caused trouble to the Ark, their human allies, and Bee most especially. “...Yes sir…” he replied with a soft tone.
He stood up and left when Ironhide told him to leave. As he left the Briefing Room, he could sense the gazes of the Autobots in the Ark. The glares of blame were much stronger than the looks of gratitude, of, puzzlement, and of a single horror coming from Bluestreak.
“Smokey? Smokey, where are you going?” The gray Datsun ran toward him, servo reaching to stop Hot Rod. “Smokey, what did Ironhide tell you? Did he lash out at you again?!”
“Bluestreak, that’s Hot Rod, not Smokescreen!” Highbrow yelled and grabbed the gunner’s arm. Blue yanked away from him.
“Let go of me!” He chased Hot Rod, calling him by his brother’s designation only for Sunstreaker to grab him back. “Sunstreaker, what are you doing?! Smokey! Smokey!! Come back!! COME BACK!!”
Hot Rod looked back, the entrance to the Ark a little far away now. He could watch Bluestreak being pulled away back into the ship as Hound arrived to look at the speedster now far away from their home with a look.
The sight of Hound made Hot Rod more embittered by the reality that he was a danger to the Autobots. His servo held onto his badge sitting at the center of his chassis and sulked with an apology that he would never know if they would be understood by the ones watching him leave. With a pained expression on his faceplates, he turned around and drove away without a certainty of coming back or if was ever going to be wanted back.
As he left, a birdcon watched him from the highest point of the area and followed him from a safe distance where his scanners wouldn't detect her.
-o-
(Witwicky Residence, Jasper, Nevada, several minutes earlier…)
“...I’m home–”
A tired and sleepy Sparky was greeted by a pair of scolded sons standing behind a frowning wife’s sofa. On the couch was this unconscious stranger in borrowed clothes and a bot sitting at the corner making a slow and awkward greeting wave.
“Ronald Witwicky,” called the stressed Judy in a serious voice. “Please explain to me what is going on here.” She pointed her thumb at the orange robot. “And what on Earth is that?!”
Sparky glanced at the boys, who could only look away. A little betrayed, he sighed. “Judy–”
“NOW!”
A moan from the unconscious man caused them to look at him. Rung looked at them and silently gestured his servos into pointing himself before pointing at the garage. After a deliberation of exchanged looks, Spike quietly helped the Bot to that area, much to Judy’s shock. Jimmy held his Mom back to the sofa when she tried to stand and question that, and Sparky gestured his hands into telling her to sit back. After a few more exchanges of mixed expressions, the stranger looked around and frowned in bafflement at the sight of people surrounding him.
The man of the house examined him with a suspicious look and looked at Judy, who gave back a glare of disbelief. The eldest son cleared his throat as his younger brother stood confused.
Finally, Sparky broke the silence. “Alright, who are you and why are you in our house?! Did you attack my wife, or perhaps you tried to seduce her?!”
“Ronald, I don’t even know who that man is! And you haven’t answered my question!” Judy snapped.
“Dad, Mom, he’s was back in Mrs. Darby’s house, naked and wounded,” Jimmy finally answered.
“That’s true,” explained Spike. “Jack called us and we found him in their house. He had a gunshot wound–”
“WHAT?!” Sparky and Judy headed for the man and checked his body but the brothers pulled them back.
“We kinda patched him up well, I guess.”
“Rule Number 1 when you see a person with a wound–” began the woman before her husband interjected.
“Call the police!”
“Dad, he’s not speaking English! I doubt that they’ll get good answers from him!” Jimmy argued. “He was speaking this foreign language, but he mentioned the words ‘Cybertron’, ‘energon’, and ‘Matrix’.”
“We tried contacting Hound, but they weren’t responding,” added the younger teen. “Did something go wrong in their base?”
“You three seem to be forgetting that I am here listening to this entire conversation and I am currently ignored,” Judy frowned, her voice a little loud enough for them to shut up. “Now, if you’d excuse me, I need to check his wound!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The woman found the gunshot wound and saw that it was superficial. She was unaccepting of the way his wounds were treated though. “Spike, fetch me the antibiotics. Jimmy, the first aid kit.” Sparky was about to speak but she glared. “You, explain how you got a talking robot in the garage! And who is this Hound?! Some former army friend or is he like that goofy orange metal thing too?!”
It looked like he had no way to excuse himself from this situation. “Alright. It’s a long story.”
The injured man flinched as the woman and her sons helped together patching him up properly. After several staggering minutes, they finished and had him drink the antibiotic, which made him look dumbfounded.
“...Uh, Mom?” Spike uttered with a puzzled expression. “I think he doesn’t know what to do…”
“That’s just great. A grown-up man to train how to change his diapers,” Sparky grumbled.”
“Shush,” Judy scolded him before she gently instructed the stranger how to drink the pill.
After a few moments, the man looked at them with confusion and spoke in his language, earning the same confusion from the entire family.
“We’re going to have a long night,” Jimmy remarked wearily.
“And I’ll be so late for work,” Sparky groaned with a headache.
“What is he saying?” Spike wondered before the Autobots’ device rang for him to answer.
.:He is asking where he is.:.
Spike looked at the garage door and saw Rung contacting him. “Uh, our friend says that the man is asking where he is.”
The Witwicky head of the family raised his eyebrows and realized something. “...Everyone, I think I know what this man is.”
They turned their heads toward Sparky.
“...This man could be one of them. How he became human is something we need to find out!”